Dichotomy
by TheVerbalThing ComesAndGoes
Summary: He will destroy her. It is the one thing about him that she can say with absolute certainty. Chuck/Vanessa
1. The Desperate, and The Obvious

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

Disclaimer: chapter titles belong to Taking Back Sunday ("You Know How I Do"). give it a listen, if that's your thing

**A/N: **haven't actually watched Gossip Girl in about three months or so, but I managed to catch this epi, and kind of like the idea of these two so this is my attempt. It's kind of rushed and i have no beta so forgive any errors.

**

* * *

duplicity**.

She awakes to the taste of something bitter in her mouth.

Vanessa licks her dry lips as she struggles to figure out where, exactly, she is.

The room is unfamiliar; the sheets are too soft, the air is too warm, and she can't recall much of anything from last night. She's surprised by the cool fingertips resting against her skin, wondering why it is that she feels so flushed, amazed that not even the best cup of coffee has ever gotten her this heated.

Her eyes land on the thin purple material lying so innocently in the middle of the floor, and it is then that Vanessa remembers just enough of last night's details to make her feel uneasy.

_God._

"Damn it," she mutters to herself.

She's trying to remember what the hell she was thinking exactly, how she could have possibly managed to rationalize in her mind that sleeping with him was a good idea. That it would help anything. That it would _change _anything.

She slides over to the edge of the bed, hesitant about her decision, not quite as ready to go as she thought she would be, not sure she wants to leave him behind just yet.

He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain.

Obviously, cutting him out of her life would be the smart thing to do; it would certainly make her life easier, simpler. Vanessa just doesn't think that's what she wants anymore.

* * *

She can feel herself ripping in two. Mentally, it's exhausting. One half of her enjoys this world she's gotten herself tangled up in, can now understand and empathize with the cutthroat bitchiness of the Upper East Side. The other half is afraid of what this might turn her into, is tentative and hesitant about looking head-on into a mirror.

She has gotten a taste of what it feels like to actually get what she wants, and she thinks she likes it.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

Dan's self-righteousness has always annoyed her on some level; she just never actually realized how _much_ until now, as he plants himself in between her and Chuck Bass. He thinks somehow that he's helping her, being the Brooklyn knight in shining armor that she'd like to think she doesn't need. She can handle this.

"I do." She looks past Dan and over his shoulder to Chuck, waiting idle at his limo parked on the curb. It still stands out amongst the faded buildings and crumbling sidewalks, but Vanessa finds that she doesn't mind it as much anymore.

"Vanessa—"

"_Dan_. I can handle this, trust me. Go _home_." She doesn't mean to snap at him, not really. But she feels herself growing anxious, although that might have more to do with Chuck's furrowed brow and frustrated frown than anything else.

"Fine. Do what you want, Vanessa. I'm not gonna stop you."

"Dan..." But her attempt to stop him is halfhearted at best and by the time she even takes one step forward, Dan is already halfway down the block and hailing a cab.

Vanessa doesn't notice Chuck come up behind her; she flinches slightly when he puts his cool hand on her back, his palm meeting her skin. "You coming?"

She nods. "Yes, of course."

* * *

"...Going so soon?"

"I wasn't planning on staying." She's snapping at him, can't figure when she's ever been this angry at another human being.

She's frustrated because she can't get her shoe on, can't even locate the other one. But mostly, her angers stems from his phone call with Blair, not fifteen minutes ago.

"I can't do this anymore."

They've had this conversation before. How many times, exactly, she's not completely sure of, but she knows this line, has put on this performance of faux strength and willpower. She feels herself tripping over sensations of déjà vu, feet unable to keep steady as she tries in vain to avoid the inevitable route this conversation will take. Next, she will tell him all the reasons why she doesn't need him, why he will only make her worse for being in his presence.

"Don't play the victim card; it doesn't suit you. You need this as much—"

"I don't need _any_thing from you."

"Sure you don't."

"I _don't. _You're the one who thought this up. You're the one who doesn't have the balls to—"

"To do what?"

He smirks, like he always does, and pulls her toward him by tugging roughly on her dress. "This?" His mouth hovers over her ear, slides to her neck. "I can do this very well."

"Bastard," she mumbles, but her heart isn't in it. Neither is her mind, really.

If that were true, she wouldn't be here. If she really hated him, she would pull herself out of this mess, and extricate herself from the whole damn thing completely.

But, she doesn't think that's what she wants anymore.

Although, if she were being honest, Vanessa doesn't know what she wants anymore.


	2. Such Magnificent Liars

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N**: this one is more Nate/Vanessa and I'm not quite sure if it fits exactly... but enjoy anyways.

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* * *

division.**

"Can we talk?"

She should say no, she knows, but she doesn't think she will ever be able to refuse Nate Archibald of anything that he asks her to do. It's actually kind of (extremely) pathetic, and she feels her cheeks flush with a poorly disguised embarrassment.

"About what?" she asks him carefully; she doesn't want to seem too curious, too interested. Vanessa takes a sip from the glass she's holding before coming to her senses and remembering that she absolutely hates champagne.

"Come for a walk with me? Please?"

She should hesitate, she knows, but in spite of what Vanessa has told Chuck, she doesn't _know _anyone here and that fact alone makes her nervous and uneasy. Almost unreasonably so. She can still feel the eyes of Blair's minions on her, questioning her motives. Besides, she may not want to admit it, but it does feel good to be the holder of Nate's full attention for once.

"Fine." She shrugs, setting her drink on the table and feigning indifference as she stands to follow him.

Nate ushers her out onto the sidewalk, politely waving away the driver who opens up the door to the backseat of a limo.

He places his arm around her shoulder, forgetting for a moment, it seems, that it is not his place to do that, not anymore. She won't deny that she misses it; Vanessa wraps her arms around herself, a poor substitution for his.

He's silent for a full two minutes and seconds before he opens his mouth, she feels her guard go up. "I've been a little... concerned about you."

She scoffs in disbelief at Nate's gall, taking a step away from him and crossing her arms defiantly across her chest. "Don't be. I'm fine."

"Do you really think that Chuck cares that much about you?"

The accusation makes her bristle, though the reasoning why she feels so slighted is a little hazy. Probably because what Nate said could very well be true. "You don't know him as well as you seem to think, Nate."

"And neither do you. Ness, just listen to me—"

The nickname makes Vanessa feel nostalgic, something she can't afford to deal with right now. "Nate. Stop. You don't have the right to worry about me anymore, remember?" She is attempting to sound distant and detached, but she's sure he can sense the bitchiness that has crept into her tone.

"Don't be like that," he begs. _Good, _she thinks evilly and a fleeting sense of pleasure washes over her, but seconds later Vanessa is starting to wonder just what the hell has gotten into her. It doesn't feel good to see Nate suffer, but at the same time... it does.

God, she's so fucked up.

"Is _Blair _aware of your concerns?"

He flinches, although it happens so fast and he covers it up so well Vanessa is almost convinced she imagined it. "Why does that matter?"

"Of course it _matters_, Nate!"

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, but—"

"Trust me, you didn't."

"But it's not like you were completely honest with me, either."

There's nothing Vanessa can say to that, not really. She closes her eyes, hands holding on tightly to opposite elbows and sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too." Her eyes are still closed- she thinks, some part of her is too busy fighting off tears - when she feels Nate step towards her, his hands on her hips, his mouth pressing against hers. He parts her lips with his tongue, briefly, before Vanessa takes a step back, shaking her head.

"You should go back inside, Nate. Before Blair notices you're gone."

It seems that everything between them is destined to be brief.


	3. Smoked Out in the Back

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N**: a smidgen of Chuck/Blair in this one... actually, it's more like a dot. even though this chapter didn't quite go the way i intended, hope you enjoy it anyway.

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* * *

diremption.**

The bartender slides him a drink across the sleek wood of the counter top and Chuck watches, slightly detached and yet still completely interested, as he sees Nate approach Vanessa, Nate's stride filled with purpose and confidence. The only thing that settles Chuck stomach is the knowledge that Nate's "confidence" is feigned, that he is not nearly as sure of himself as he'd like people to think he is.

Chuck thinks nothing of their encounter at first; he frowns but doesn't make a move from his seat as Nate's hand falls to the small of Vanessa's back. Chuck's interest is only piqued to dangerous levels when he notices that after fifteen minutes, they still haven't come back in from outside. His frown deepens.

The next sip from the drink goes down with difficulty as an unfamiliar lump lodges itself in his throat. Chuck has never quite been in tune to his feelings or emotions - only his wants - and he is suddenly uncomfortable with the idea that he doesn't like Vanessa being alone with Nate and would rather have her to himself.

Chuck chokes down the rest of his drink, hoping to dislodge the lump from its place in the middle of his throat.

When it doesn't feel as though that's working, he signals the bartender for yet another drink.

She answers the phone on the third ring, and he imagines her anxiously reaching for it on the first, but deciding against it at the last second, probably wanting Chuck to sweat it out a little.

"What do you want, Chuck?" Blair is trying to sound menacing, attempting to snarl and intimidate him, but Chuck can just as easily picture her smiling in spite of her tone; she likes this, the back and forth banter that's almost like foreplay. He knows her too well, he thinks.

"Hello to you, too."

"Oh, don't act coy; it doesn't suit you." She is quiet for a moment and he thinks that she's probably sitting down, getting comfortable, preparing herself to talk to him and get into yet another verbal battle of wills. "Chuck. What do you want?"

Something about the tone of Blair's voice indicates that whatever he wants, it wouldn't be all that difficult for him to obtain it. He called Blair with the intention of just that firmly in his mind but suddenly, having it placed right in front of him, Chuck hesitates. He pauses.

It's certainly the first time that's ever happened.

"Tonight? Nothing from you. Goodnight, Blair." He hangs up abruptly, before she can say much of anything, but this time he's thinking nothing of their little game, isn't up to switching the roles of cat and mouse.

He tells his driver to turn the car around and stumbles out onto the familiar streets of Brooklyn. He's a lot drunker than he realized when he finds himself tripping over the curb, and after pushing the buzzer twice to Vanessa's apartment, he's starting to doubt if he even has the right place. That is, until he hears her voice.

He hears her sigh through the intercom, surprised that he finds that he would much rather see her face, would prefer to feel her sigh against him. "Chuck. It's late. Go home."

"It's early. Come down."

"No."

"Why are you hiding from me?"

"I'm not hiding from you, Chuck. I'm tired."

"The Golden Boy wear you out? Does he know that you like to-"

"Chuck. Go home. You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk. And Nate isn't what you think he is. He's not some demigod among mere mortals," he sneers. But Chuck decides that now is not the moment for him to dwell on the temporary rush of jealousy he feels toward Nate Archibald - or, why, exactly Chuck feels any jealousy at all.

Vanessa is quiet for a moment. "That's funny, because he said the same thing about you."

"That I'm a god? I'm flattered."

The intercom crackles heavy static as she lets out a laugh. "You know, you're not nearly as cute as you think you are, Chuck."

"So I've been told. Let me up."

"Why? You being with me at three in the morning when no one knows about it isn't gonna make Blair want to be with you."

"Maybe that's not what I want."

She sighs again and he feels the odd lump in his throat return at the sound. "You don't know what you want."

There isn't much he can say to that.

"Goodnight Chuck."

He pauses, before admitting his defeat and nodding, drunkenly solemn. "Goodnight, Vanessa."


	4. I'll Give In One More Time

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N**: i should probably mention that i have no idea where this is going...so, i'm not sure how long this story will be. suggestions are welcome; reviews appreciated. enjoy!

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duality.**

The morning sun is bright and cheery the next morning - almost mocking, taunting.

Vanessa rubs a hand over tired eyes, refusing to acknowledge the fact that her restless sleep was the result of going to bed alone for the first time in a long while. Vanessa reasons that it's only been a month of Chuck (and his games) and that there's no possibility that she's become attached to him in any way.

Still, her body is cold and lonely as she treads across the floor of her empty apartment. The light of her answering machine stares back, unblinking; she's never felt more forgotten or lonely. God, she's tired.

Dan's face is the first thing she sees when she walks down the steps in front of her apartment and Vanessa tries to hide her disappointment behind her sunglasses. What was she expecting, Chuck standing out on the sidewalk in a disheveled tuxedo, playing _"In Your Eyes"_ from the stereo in his limo?

After all this time, her expectations really shouldn't be set so high.

"Hey." Dan is the one who speaks first, always unable to let a fight settle between them for too long without being addressed, meddled and fixed in some way.

"Hey," Vanessa greets him reluctantly. She tries to smile, but it just feels awkward; it's early and she winces when she sets her sunglasses on top her head, eyes squinting at the brightness of the day.

"Breakfast?" He holds up a bag from the bakery down the street and realizes just how hungry she is.

"Thanks." She peeks inside at the egg sandwich, inhaling the scent of fresh dough. "Well, since you brought the food...mind if I bring the apology?"

Dan nods. "Accepted, as long as we can get some coffee." She casually loops her arm through his and they stroll in a slightly awkward silence down the sidewalk.

Vanessa knows that Dan wants to bring up Chuck, and his sudden meaning in her life, but even if she _wanted_ to talk about it, she wouldn't really know quite what to say.

* * *

It's later in the day when Vanessa finds her video camera buried and lost in an abandoned corner of her room. The thinnest layer of dust that coats the top of it very nearly breaks her heart in half. It's a gentle reminder of all that she's been missing, the part of herself that she's been neglecting.

She's made the resolution to make more time for her first love, filming, and telling herself to ignore any other distractions - certain heirs to billionaire fortunes that shall remain nameless - when not five minutes after she's settled herself onto a park bench, the seat next to her becomes occupied by one Chuck Bass.

She glares at him; he smirks. "Are you following me?"

"No. I happen to love Washington Square."

"Liar," Vanessa scoffs. She tries to concentrate on adjusting the focus of her lens when she feels him lean towards her. His lips are near her ear and she's subconsciously leaning towards him. Vanessa rolls her eyes at her inability to concentrate or control herself.

"So there's an event tomorrow night..."

"Of course there is," she retorts. His silence is far more distracting than any other thing he could come up with and Vanessa stops fidgeting with her camera lens to turn and face him. "Stop hemming and hawing, Chuck. You don't pull it off well. Just tell me what you're here for."

"Come with me."

"Is that a request?" Vanessa asks glibly.

"Well I would get down on bended knee but these pants are new."

"I have better things to do with my time."

"No, you don't."

Vanessa narrows her eyes. "Is Blair going to be there?"

"I didn't ask."

She's surprised by this little fact, and, honestly, not sure if she believes him - if she _should _believe him. "Really? Because our deal was—"

"I know what 'our deal' was. But, it's time to change things up a bit, don't you think?"

"...How so?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Chuck," she sighs, shaking her head.

"Say yes." He brushes his thumb across her cheek, wrapping his hand around the curve of her neck and turning her to face him.

_You're going to regret this_, she chides herself.

"What time?"

* * *

She shouldn't be here.

Vanessa takes a deep breath and holds it before exhaling through her nose.

She _shouldn't _be here. This is probably about the tenth time that thought has run through her mind since she and Chuck have arrived. She heads nervously toward the bathroom, trying not to seem like she feels completely foreign and out of place without Chuck nearby.

"Why are you here?" As always, Blair is right by her side, ready and willing to feed into Vanessa's insecurities.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't repeat myself; you heard me, Abrams."

"I was invited. I know you like to tell yourself otherwise, but you don't own this city."

"That's what you think."

"Blair, please. This little dance is getting a little old, don't you think so?"

"So you're admitting defeat?" She seems almost...smug.

Vanessa scoffs and rolls her eyes, crossing her arms defensively across her stomach. "Did you _actually_ read _The Art of War_, or did you just have your band of Bergdorf Blondes do it _for_ you?"

Blair narrows her eyes, getting closer than necessary into Vanessa's personal space. "I don't need to work that hard to destroy you, Vanessa. Remember that."

"You need to remember that I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be."

Vanessa allows their stand-off to last another minute before she shoves past Blair and heads into the bathroom.

* * *

"You know, it was fun at first, almost cute even, but now it's actually getting really annoying."

Chuck's eyes flit over Blair's form out of habit, taking in the snug fitting black dress and casual - but deliberate - tousle of her brown curls and smooth shine of her red lips as she leans against the counter of the bar, her hip brushing against his leg. "What is?"

"Your pet project. How long are you planning on slumming, anyway?"

"What do you care what I do in my spare time?"

"More like _who_," Blair corrects snidely. "And I don't. I care about right and wrong. Someone like Vanessa Abrams shouldn't get a free pass into the Upper East Side simply because Chuck Bass is bored and suddenly wants to borrow a toy that no one else wants to play with."

"_You're_ preaching to _me_ about what's right and wrong?" He chortles, examines the contents of his drink. "Well I can certainly appreciate the irony."

Blair's smirk increases, knowingly. "You can't honestly tell me that you're not bored of this already."

He notices Vanessa, coming out of the bathroom over Blair's shoulder. "Honestly, I'm not..." Chuck pauses, and shifts his gaze to Blair pointedly. "How much does that bother you?"

"Please. You're not on my level." Blair runs her finger along the rim of the martini glass in front her. "You really shouldn't string her along, Chuck. It only makes her look pathetic."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No, but it's certainly a bonus." Blair tilts her head to the side, trying to catch his gaze. Chuck looks away when his eyes land on hers. "You still want me…why are you trying so hard to hold onto her?" she asks frankly and that's when he notices her fingers toying with the cuff of his sleeve.

"I don't know," he answers, honesty trumping everything else for the moment. He stands, leaving behind Blair and his drink.

* * *

"Come on." Chuck slides his arm around Vanessa's back. It doesn't take much effort for him to steer her away from the ballroom filled with people and walk towards the elevators.

"But, we just got here—" Vanessa frowns, looking over her shoulder at the sound of a sudden swell of applause.

"Aren't you the one who said you had better things to do with your time?"

"Yes, but I thought that _you_ were the one who wanted—" She stops as he tugs on her arm and gently pulls her into the elevator lift with him. He doesn't want to be here, not tonight, with Blair breathing down his neck, questioning his motives and trying to intimidate Vanessa with the utmost subtlety of an Upper East Side queen.

"What are you doing?" she asks him, softly, her gaze dropping to his lips.

He pulls her toward him, aligning her body with his and eliminating any extra space between them. "Proving what I want."


	5. To A Night Well Spent

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N: **sorry this took longer to post than I thought it would. but as always, enjoy and review. :)

**

* * *

**

dyad.

"Come on." Chuck slides his arm around Vanessa's back. It doesn't take much effort for him to steer her away from the ballroom filled with people and walk towards the elevators.

"But, we just got here—" Vanessa frowns, looking over her shoulder at the sound of a sudden swell of applause.

"Aren't you the one who said you had better things to do with your time?"

"Yes, but I thought that _you_ were the one who wanted—" She stops as he tugs on her arm and gently pulls her into the elevator lift with him. He doesn't want to be here, not tonight, with Blair breathing down his neck, questioning his motives and trying to intimidate Vanessa with the utmost subtlety of an Upper East Side queen.

"What are you doing?" she asks him, softly, her gaze dropping to his lips.

He pulls her toward him, aligning her body with his and eliminating any extra space between them. "Proving what I want."

* * *

"... And your drink, madam."

This is exactly the kind of cheesy line that would have earned him a smile two years ago, but instead Blair takes the glass from Nate's hands gracefully, without so much as a thank you or quirk of the lips or any acknowledgment of his presence.

Nate watches with interest as she swallows nearly half of her drink in one gulp. She's bothered by something, and Nate has it on good authority that whatever it is, has less to do with him and more to do with the fact that Chuck has just disappeared behind elevator doors, his arm wrapped around the waist of someone who definitely _isn't_ Blair.

"What's wrong?" He asks anyway, because it is his role as the dutiful and loyal boyfriend, and Nate doesn't really know how to play the part of anything else.

"What?"

"You look upset."

"What? No, I'm fine. _More _than fine," Blair insists. She reaches her arms up, wrapping them around his neck and if he closes his eyes, Nate can swear it feels just like it did two years ago.

"You're not at all bothered by the fact that Chuck is leaving?" He deliberately avoids the words _"with Vanessa"_ because this is the part that bothers _him_ the most, though he knows, for all intents and purposes, that it shouldn't.

"Of course not." Nate narrows his eyes in suspicion, not quite sure if he can believe what she says anymore. Though, honestly, he can't really blame her because there's no way he could tell her who he's really thinking about, either.

* * *

He tastes like scotch.

She slowly runs her tongue across her bottom lip, savoring his taste for a moment before pulling away and putting just enough distance between them for Vanessa to be able to look him in the eyes without much effort. She doesn't normally like the taste of scotch but if she can taste it on him she thinks she'd make an exception. In a sudden moment of bravery and boldness, she tells him this, her fingers toying with the buttons of his silk shirt.

"You're drunk," he laughs into her ear.

Vanessa chooses to ignore the nervous chill that runs over her, attributing it to the cool air and her lack of any substantial clothing, and nothing else.

"Am not."

"Prove it."

"Fine," she counters, childishly, and proceeds to walk forward without him, determined to prove him wrong.

She stumbles. He catches her. "Lightweight," he murmurs, but she refuses to associate the tone he's using with the word _'affection' -_ not with Nate's voice in the back of her mind, riddled with concern, with _conviction_, letting her know that Chuck being affectionate is pretty much impossible. _"You really think that Chuck cares that much about you?"_

The problem with 'pretty much' is that it is not the same as 'definite' and the Scotch is making a normally cynically realistic Vanessa feel almost hopeful. Or, maybe it's something else that's making her feel that way. She licks her lips again, feeling heady. "So, now that you've gotten me completely sloshed what do you plan to do with me?"

"'Sloshed'?"

"Take me home, Chuck," she murmurs, her lips brushing against his. It is less of an order and more of a request but all the same she is finding it harder and harder to ignore how much she wants him right now.

"As you wish."

* * *

Vanessa awakes with her face resting against Chuck's bare abdomen, legs sprawled across the bed and entwined with his. Her feet are cold.

It is one of those rare mornings where she awakes with him in her bed, even rarer is the fact that she finds herself feeling devoid of regret or shame. Last night, leaving the gala and everything else behind, was good for them. She thinks.

She shivers, sliding closer to him, and pulling her down comforter around the two of them, before a frown settles over her face as she tries to figure why she's even awake so early.

Before she can lay her head back down on Chuck's chest, she is startled by the sound of the incessant and obnoxious buzzer, letting her know that someone downstairs wanted in and wasn't going to let up until she answers.

She climbs out of bed reluctantly, leaving behind a still slumbering Chuck and wrapping herself in a terry cloth robe.

A hand pressed to her slightly aching forehead, she manages to pull herself together enough to ask, in a slightly husky tone, "Who is it?"

Static and city noise fill the silence of Chuck's hotel suite before she hears his voice, strong, gallant, and confident even at nine in the morning:

"...It's Nate."

_Well, shit_.


	6. Crush Me, Baby, I'm All Ears

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N**: this chapter kind of went in its own direction and didn't really go the way i'd originally intended, but, here it is. and, bonus! i'm already almost done with the next chapter, so no crazy long wait this time. :)

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deuce.**

He's not sure, exactly, what it is that wakes him up at first. He's grown accustomed to the noise of the city - car horns, screeching tires, the angered yelling of the jaded passerby - so he knows that isn't what disturbs his sleep. Chuck feels his shoulder shift up, and then down, and suddenly, before he even knows it's happening, the pillow he's buried his face in is pulled abruptly and harshly from underneath him.

His eyes are open long before he is mentally ready to deal with the sunlight canting across his face. And the spot next to him, formerly occupied by a warm and naked Vanessa Abrams, is cold now. He frowns, as his shoulder changes positions again, followed by a rough tug on his arm. Chuck cracks open one eye, then the other, before groggily grumbling, "There are other ways, _better_ ways, to wake me up, you know."

Vanessa scowls, though if her intention is to instill some modicum of fear within him, she is sorely mistaken. He'd laugh if it wasn't so early in the damned morning. "I know. Get up."

"You're awake. And fully clothed. Why?"

"Chuck. Get _up_."

He honestly can't resist the double-entendre that automatically jumps to his mind. He smirks. "I _am_ up."

She ignores his comment, though, and simply says, "You have to get dressed."

"What?"

"You have to get dressed! Or, at least put some pants on. _Now_," she insists, shoving her finger into his bare chest.

"Now why would I do that, when it's so much easier to get you _un_dressed-"

Vanessa sighs, an exasperated exhale, the sound intimating impatience and Chuck takes a brief moment to appreciate the thin material of her shirt, fastened haphazardly at only two or three buttons, and giving him quite a lovely view. "Because Nate is on his way up here and he can't know about... this. Us, and what happened last night."

"You're panicking."

"No, I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. Why? Getting Nate all hot and bothered about you and me was a part of the original plan."

"I thought you were done with the original plan."

"I am, but I'm not so sure that you are. Why, exactly, don't you want Nate to know?"

"Because," Vanessa falters, her eyes momentarily dropping to the lower half of his body when he slides out from under the sheets. "Nate is your friend and after everything that happened with you, him, and Blair I was thinking that him finding out about me, like this, is the last thing the two of you need." He's starting to wonder why her attitude's changed so much from last night, why suddenly Vanessa cares so much, when last night she was practically begging him to screw her.

"How altruistic of you." He pulls on his boxers, then slides on a pair of pants.

"Thank you."

"Trust me, it wasn't a compliment," Chuck insists. He moves so that he is standing in front of her and rests his hands flat against her hips, smirking inwardly when he doesn't detect a panty line. Interesting. He kisses her, intending to be brief, but ultimately getting caught up in the moment when she opens her mouth under his, tilting her head and deepening the kiss.

"Ugh, morning breath," she jokingly gripes when they both pull away after a moment, though his hands remain on her hips.

"Didn't seem to be stopping you before," he retorts. "Besides, yours isn't much better."

"Look, I know you want your friendship with Nate to go back to the way it was-"

"So, is_ this_ the new plan?" Chuck interrupts her, pointedly ignoring what she's trying to say.

"What?"

"Originally, you were just using me to make Nate jealous," he states accusingly, trying to figure out Vanessa's motive. Her eyes narrow at his tone, but other than that, show nothing in response to his statement.

"And _you_ were just using _me_ to make Blair jealous. What's your point, Chuck?"

"What's yours?"

She doesn't answer.

"Now who doesn't know what they want?"

She bites down on her bottom lip and rolls her eyes; it isn't hard for him to take notice of the fact that she won't look him in the eyes. A hard knock resounds from the other side of the door. "Will you just answer the damned door?"

"Chuck, man, open up. It's Nate."

Vanessa has scurried herself in the bathroom by the time Chuck gets to the door and he wonders, for the about the millionth time since this whole thing started, if he'll ever figure her out.

"This couldn't have waited until noon?"

Nate, as usual, is perfectly coiffed even at nine in the morning, seeming as though it just came naturally to him. His eyes look suspiciously over Chuck's shoulder, though, his mouth turned down into a frown. "You have a girl in here or something?"

"Not this time."

"Really? Because when I rang the buzzer earlier, kinda sounded like a woman's voice."

"You try waking up after only three hours of sleep and see how you sound." Off Nate's look of doubt, Chuck rolls his eyes. "When have you ever known me to hide away a conquest? There's no one else here."

He steps to the side to let Nate in, turning to watch his friend's face contort in confusion when he catches sight of a pair of lavender underwear peeking out from under the bed sheet. Apparently, Vanessa wasn't as careful as she may have hoped. "Then whose are those?"

"One of the maids must have left it behind, hoping for a tip. Trust me, they don't belong to anyone important," Chuck adds spitefully. The bathroom door is cracked, so he knows she's overheard him but that does nothing to deter him.

"Have you seen Vanessa?"

Chuck sighs, already feeling himself grow agitated by this conversation and the hangover he wasn't given the opportunity to sleep off. It would be easy, he knows, to tell Nate the truth and oust Vanessa's 'hiding spot' but, by the look on Nate's face, Chuck isn't so sure the truth would help anything. Besides, Chuck Bass doesn't really do 'easy'. "No."

"That's funny, because you were with her last night, and she's not at her apartment-"

"It's 9 am, Nate. Give the girl a chance to properly recover from a hangover." Chuck really didn't mean to come off so condescending, but he just can't help himself it seems.

"Is there something more going on with you and Vanessa?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know... You two seemed pretty cozy at the Black & White ball last night."

"...Would it bother you if something more _was_ going on?"

"Why?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"I just don't want her to get hurt by you...she's different; she's - "

"_'Special'?_" Chuck fills in, snorting derisively, mockingly. "Vanessa's a big girl, Nate, she can handle herself." _Trust me, I know._

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Why do you need to know so badly, are you interested?"

"Not in any sick game you're playing. I care about her."

"And I don't?"

"Chuck, seriously, come on."

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because she's- she's important to me," Nate insists. He's practically pleading; Chuck wonders if the unexpected feeling in his chest is pity or sympathy, neither of which are emotions he's familiar with.

"You came over here just to tell me that?"

"Yes."

"Why does this feel like a threat?"

"It's not. I just thought you should know, before- I just thought you should know."

"Thanks for informing me, but I couldn't care less," Chuck replies. "It was just a game. It was fun, and now it's over."

"That's really all it was?" Nate asks, dubious, but Chuck knows him well enough to know how much he wants to believe it.

"That's all it was."

Barely seconds after Nate closes the door behind him, Vanessa steps out of the bathroom. The tension between them is thick and awkward, and suddenly Chuck is wondering if anything that was said and shared between them last night matters now. And, why, exactly, he _wants_ it to matter.

"Well, now you know. He's yours if you want him. You got what you wanted."

"Chuck, I-"

He turns towards the window, his back facing her. "You can let yourself out," he coldly dismisses.

He doesn't turn around when he hears the door slam shut behind her.


	7. Listen, Chick, I've Had All I Can Handle

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N**: a big thank you for reviewing/reading/favoriting the last chap. there's a line in this chapter that's taken from the show, though i can't recall which episode. and i'm thinking maybe ten, twelve chapters max total for this story. sound good? too soon? too late? review all. (and enjoy :)

**

* * *

doublet.**

She doesn't know where to go, exactly, once Chuck virtually kicks her out of his hotel room. Her hand pressed to her lips as she thinks over his conversation with Nate, she takes her time walking towards the elevator. Vanessa doesn't want to run into Nate, though she's not entirely sure why just yet.

After looking down at her haphazardly buttoned shirt and, realizing that she's inadvertently gone commando, with a groan Vanessa decides to head back to her apartment for a quick shower and a change of clothes.

The blinking red light on Vanessa's answering machine catches her eye and almost immediately, she feels her heart jump up into her throat. A wave of anxiety washes over her body and she rolls her eyes at the way her heart rate increases. _Pathetic_, she thinks.

"Hey Vanessa, it's Nate. I just wanted to - uh, call me back when you get this?"

Her heart drops from its place in her throat down to her stomach at the sound of his voice. It doesn't really register in her mind at first that it's disappointment she's feeling, not until she's hitting the playback button to hear the message from Nate again.

The next message is from Dan, spouting off some vague reference to Gossip Girl's website, and Vanessa makes a mental note to check on that later, maybe.

"_End of new messages_," the machine drones on. She swallows thickly. Disappointed again.

Of course. She shakes her head, almost in awe of her own stupidity. Did she really expect for Chuck to call after what happened this morning?

Vanessa sighs as she turns on the shower head and sticks her hand underneath, checking to make sure the water is hot enough.

As she steps into her shower stall Vanessa admits - only to herself - that yes, she _was_ hoping.

* * *

As expected, Blair finds Vanessa in a coffee shop in Brooklyn, seated at some cheap Formica table. For once, Gossip Girl proves to be a reliable source of information. Hand on her hip, Blair hovers over the table Vanessa's occupying, growing a little irritated when Vanessa doesn't look up immediately. Blair clears her throat, loudly.

"What are you doing here?" Vanessa's eyes narrow in suspicion. She sets her coffee and the Sudoku puzzle she's been working on off to the side, and folds her arms defensively across her stomach.

Inwardly, Blair smirks. Good. People are much easier to manipulate when they go straight to the defensive.

"What's it look like? I'm paying a friendly visit."

"The word 'friendly' should never leave _your_ mouth."

This time, Blair ignores the blatant insult. She considers sliding into the empty seat across from Vanessa, but after a second glance at the questionable vinyl - _vinyl? gross_ - seats she decides that remaining standing would be a better idea. It's much more intimidating that way, anyway, and Blair will always take any advantage she can get. "I _am_ here for a reason. Saw an interesting little post on Gossip Girl this morning."

"Which was...?"

"A vomit-inducing picture of you and Chuck at nearly 2 a.m. outside his hotel."

Vanessa blanches, barely, but just enough for Blair to notice. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sounded jealous."

"You're kidding, right?" Blair scoffs. "Look, I get that you were probably dying to get a glimpse into the life of an Upper East Sider, but Chuck was only using you to get back at me, and even if he_ wasn't_," she scowls as if that isn't even a real possibility, "you don't have what it takes to live this lifestyle. Not permanently."

Vanessa looks increasingly tense, and Blair wonders if she's finally starting to chip away at the girl's armor. She keeps going, trying to find the right nerve to hit, the perfect sore spot to poke with a sharp stick.

"Why does it matter to you so much if I spend time with Chuck? Are you in love with him?"

"Never confuse lust and contempt with love, Abrams. That's rule number one."

Vanessa frowns. "Are you - are you giving me _advice_?"

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous."

"Then, please, tell me, what is this _lovely_ moment we're sharing?" Vanessa asks, sarcastic and exasperated.

"This is me telling you to stand down."

Vanessa resists the urge to roll her eyes at Blair's need to over dramatize every situation in her life by using war analogies and combat metaphors. "Or, what, you'll 'open fire'?"

"In a manner of speaking. Look, I don't care what you do as long as it has no bearing on my life."

"Did you and Nate break up? Is that why you're here?"

Blair refuses to even think about the answer to that question, much less answer it directly. She does acknowledge, however, that the rift or chasm between her and Nate has grown exponentially since they'd initially decided to give their relationship another try. She also acknowledges that there are at least two reasons behind that. "...If we did, you would be the last person I would tell."

"Yeah, okay-"

"Besides, even_ if_ Nate somehow forgot all the rules about proper coupling in the Upper East Side, he knows a relationship with someone like you would only be temporary. Your breeding alone is enough to give him a rash."

"'Breeding'? What are you, a Yorkshire Terrier?"

"Cute. Gotta love that impoverished and destitute Brooklyn sense of humor," Blair retorts, smirking.

"Blair, look, I'm really not in the mood to-"

"You think I don't know what you're doing?"

"Excuse me?"

"Please," she scoffs. "Cut the crap, Vanessa. I know you're not as naive as Dan Humphrey, and you're definitely not as stupid as his hideously blond little sister."

"Thank you, I think," Vanessa mutters.

"I am the expert at Manipulation 101. You don't get to have them both. That's not how this works."

"Oh, right, I forgot - only _you_ can. Blair, I'm not the one who's trying to-"

"You can try to play this game all you want, but you're not experienced enough to win," Blair persists. "Trust me."

"I have no reason to trust you, or anything you say."

"You're right. You shouldn't."

Blair casts Vanessa one final threatening glare, feeling a little disappointed that their conversation hadn't exactly taken the direction she'd hoped: which would have been Vanessa bowing out - gracefully or not - leaving Blair ample time to make her decision between Chuck Bass and Nate Archibald.

Blair frowns.

_Maybe she's smarter than I give her credit for._

The thought alone is enough to make her sick.

* * *

"Blair, this is ridiculous. And, I mean, I kind of have to agree with Vanessa."

She halts her frantic pacing in mid-stride, and turns on Serena with a cold glare. "If you want to remain friends with me, don't ever say those words again," she hisses.

Serena sighs, draping herself across Blair's bed and spreading her blond tresses across her 300 thread count Egyptian sheets and messing up her perfectly made bed. "Well, you're making this out to be some kind of epic battle-"

"It is! I don't see how you don't think it is. The fact that _Vanessa Abrams_ even thinks she has a chance means that the universe is seriously unbalanced!"

"Blair, it's a lot simpler than that and has nothing to do with some unbalanced universe theory."

"_No_, it-"

"Yes, it is. Do you want to be with Nate?"

Blair doesn't answer, not with words. She can't. Her heart and mind come up with two entirely different responses. Her whole life has been about building a future and starting an empire with Nate. There's no way she could just change that plan after one year and a reckless night in the backseat of a limo. She's always wanted to be with Nate, but it isn't that simple anymore.

At her silence, Serena sits up, and looks her best friend in the eyes.

"Well... are _you_ in love with Chuck?" Serena asks, speaking each word softly.

"Only a masochist could ever love such a narcissist," Blair answers, trying to be flippant but somehow ending up sounding frighteningly truthful.

"Are you talking about you or Vanessa?"

Blair's stomach fills with dread. "Do you think Vanessa's in love with Chuck?"

Serena shrugs. "I don't know, B. But, I think it's a possibility."

It's not the answer Blair wants or expects to hear. It isn't "no".

And, in spite of all the best laid plans she's made involving Nate or about her and Nate, she can't accept that.

She _won't_.


	8. So Good At Setting Bad Examples

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N**: This took way too long to write and I have no idea why. Blame writer's block and a weird phase i'm going through. This chap kind of mirrors chapters 2&3. I didn't intend for it to, It just worked out that way. Also i'm working on responding to reviews, so please don't think i'm ignoring or not appreciating you. :)

**

* * *

disunion.**

"So."

"So," Dan drags the word out as slowly as he possibly can and Vanessa rolls her eyes in response, annoyed.

"So...?" she echoes, expectantly.

He opens his mouth to speak again, but before he does she threatens, shoving her finger into his chest, "If you say 'so' one more time, Dan, I swear to God, I am going to rip-"

"Sorry, I'm just, uh, trying to think about this."

"About...?"

"It's just - this _thing_ with you and Chuck. Is it serious?"

Vanessa sighs and takes a tentative sip from the hot cup of coffee in her hands. "It's... complicated."

"Man, that sounds familiar." Dan chuckles and scratches a spot behind his ear, a nervous habit. "Do you _want_ it to be serious?"

"I don't know."

"Well, is he right about you and Nate?"

"I don't know."

"Well, that certainly puts everything into perspective."

Vanessa rolls her eyes. "You know, this was _so_ much easier when I didn't really know either of them. I think I prefer being an outsider, looking in, as opposed to being an outsider who's thrown in."

"Come on, Vanessa. You weren't _'thrown'_ in. You _put_ yourself in. Besides I thought the 'Make Nate Jealous' plan was your idea?"

"It was. Sort of. I just - I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do."

"Vanessa, you know I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Okay well, for one thing because it's not my relationship so I can't really have a say in the direction that it goes in-"

"Like that's ever stopped you before."

"- and _two_," Dan continues, his brown eyes narrowed, "if I tell you what I _really_ think about this thing between you and Chuck, then it's highly likely that we won't be speaking for weeks again."

"Stop saying _'thing' _like that_."_

"Like what?"

"Like that time when you found out you accidentally got an article published in _People_ magazine instead of _Paradigm_. And he's not ... _all_ bad." Vanessa doesn't know why she's even defending him - he's _Chuck Bass_ - but, there it is. She sighs.

"So, underneath that hard exterior, there's a soft and vulnerable center? I find that very hard to believe."

"I think you just described a _Three Musketeers_ Bar."

"I know you, Vanessa, and I think you already know what you want but for whatever reason are afraid to admit it so you're running from it."

She shakes her head. "That... doesn't sound like me."

Dan gives her a pointed look, full of meaning. "I know it doesn't."

* * *

She hesitates - only once - before opening the door to the bar she knows he frequents. But it's still a hesitation. She's still uncertain about this. About _them_. Not that there _is_ a them, she reminds herself. There is only her and Nate, and one careless indiscretion that Blair seems to be unable to put behind her despite her best efforts. (And, there is still one Brooklynite named Vanessa Abrams that she has been unable to shake thus far.)

Blair sighs, takes a seat on the bar stool next to his and orders a drink to gain a little bit of the control that seems to have slipped through her fingers before she even arrived.

Chuck acknowledges her presence, and when he looks her in the eyes it's almost as if he's looking through her. She wouldn't say she's fond of how it makes her feel. He swirls the drink in his hand, and the sound of the ice clinking together echoes. He licks his lips. "You don't think we're becoming a bit predictable?''

"How so?"

"We play games... Things go south - and _not_ in the fun way - between me and a conquest, I go to a bar to drown my sorrows. You... seek me out. Lather, rinse, repeat."

"Is that all that Vanessa was? A conquest?"

He doesn't answer. His silence makes her nervous.

"I just thought we should talk," Blair says, resisting the urge to strangle him out of frustration. She bites down on her bottom lip, tucking it between her teeth. "We _need _to talk, Chuck," she tries again.

"About what exactly?" She goes quiet. This conversation isn't turning out at all how she thought it would. Blair can't help but think, he's worse at this than Nate is.

"What are you so afraid of?" He sounds angry, which, immediately, causes Blair to jump to the defensive.

"I'm not afraid," she lies. She reminds herself that Blair Waldorf is not intimidated easily, not by anyone, least of all by Chuck Bass - even if he is the boy who took her virginity and seems to hold a piece of her heart. "I'm not the one running to Brooklyn whenever I can't handle a relationship."

"If I recall, _we_ don't have a relationship," Chuck snaps, for the first time showing some semblance of emotion. "You do. With someone else. How is old Nate, by the way? Does he know you're here?"

"Nate doesn't _own_ me." She takes a sip of her drink. "I just need to know whether the risk would be worth it-"

"Of course," Chuck nods mockingly. "You're not the kind of girl who risks anything without a five year plan and, naturally, a fall back plan just in case that falls apart."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Blair retorts primly.

"I've got news for you, princess, _life _doesn't work like that."

"Mine does," she insists, offended.

"Well mine doesn't. And if that's what you really think then I don't know why you're here."

"I think that you're just afraid to be happy."

"Why do you care if I'm happy?"

She doesn't respond because she doesn't know or have the answer. She doesn't know _why_ she cares so much but she does know that she shouldn't even though she can't seem to stop. He will ruin her, certainly. Destroy her, possibly. But in spite of Blair's own reasoning, she does care. She supposes that's why she leans in towards him, pushing his drink to the side and placing his face between her hands. On the inside, she burns with satisfaction at the fact that Chuck isn't fighting her, and Blair slowly lets her lips touch his and it's not long before she's wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

* * *

Nate is sitting on the steps in front of her apartment, waiting for her.

"Hey."

"Hey." Vanessa smiles faintly and hopes that she's gotten more adept at hiding her inner anxiety a lot better than she's ever been before. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugs, rises to his feet and moves to stand in front of her, a crooked half smile dancing across his features as he takes a step closer. "I was in the neighborhood."

"So you're hanging around in Williamsburg now?"

"I've been looking for you."

"...You have?" She pretends not to know this.

"Yeah." He shrugs again and smiles the grin that made her fall for him in the first place, the grin that convinced her concocting a semi-convoluted _Cruel Intentions_ inspired plan with the Devil of the Upper East Side (aka Chuck Bass) was a brilliant idea. "Didn't you get my messages?"

"No. I, uh, I haven't been home today," she lies again. Vanessa consoles herself with the dismal thought that she only lies to keep him here.

"Can we talk?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. You want to come upstairs?" She's digging around in the bottom of her bag, trying to find her keys with her back turned to him, which is why she doesn't see him, moving to stand directly behind her. Vanessa jumps, startled when she feels Nate's hands on her hips. "Nate?" She smirks. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"I've been thinking."

"About-?" the word has barely left her mouth before Nate's arm has settled around her waist and pulled her close against him, his mouth strong and firm on hers. She can feel the breath of his exhale against her top lip. The kiss is gentle, sweet, and it is so easy for Vanessa to get caught up in the novelty of kissing Nate Archibald, this boy whom she's told herself she wanted so badly for so long but now that he's here she doesn't know what the hell she's supposed to do. She likes him, she does; there are feelings here, definitely.

But is that enough?

She doesn't know why she kisses him. Old habits die hard, as the saying goes.

Vanessa pulls back a bit and rests her forehead against Nate's.

"I...still have feelings for you," he utters and even though it's everything Vanessa wants to hear she suddenly wonders _why? _"I really care about you, Vanessa," he whispers, his lips brushing against hers. His hands are still gripping her hips, their bodies pressed tightly together on the steps in front of her apartment building and she's suddenly reminded of silken hotel sheets and torrid nights and whispered secrets that she almost wishes never happened because they're that difficult to forget. Nate is the one who kisses her first, and she doesn't think or care to ask about Blair this time as her tongue searches out his. His hands slide through her hair and she tilts her head and opens her mouth just a little to deepen the kiss and she isn't as certain of her motives as she thought she would be when this moment happens. But when Nate pulls back, seconds later, and just says, "Ness," she grabs his hand and moves toward her door.

"Upstairs?"

He nods.


	9. The Finest Line Divides

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N: **enjoy reading and review, all.

* * *

**double. **

"...I just think that you're afraid to be happy," Blair admits quietly. She leans toward Chuck but keeps her hands flat against the bar's counter top, still unrelenting and never wavering when it comes to showing any shred of vulnerability in front of him. Every move of hers is calculated, Chuck notes pointedly.

"Why do you care if I'm happy?"

She doesn't respond because she doesn't know or have the answer. It's not a question that she's prepared for. She doesn't know _why_ she cares so much but she does know that she shouldn't even though she can't seem to stop. He will ruin her, certainly. Destroy her, possibly. But in spite of Blair's own reasoning, she does care. She supposes that's why she leans in towards him, pushing his drink to the side and placing his face between her hands. On the inside, she burns with satisfaction at the fact that Chuck isn't fighting her, and Blair slowly lets her lips touch his and it's not long before she's wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

The kiss lasts heatedly for a few seconds before it's over; she's not entirely sure which one of them pulls away first but Blair does know she can feel a burgeoning sense of guilt that seems to come over her.

"Killing two birds with one stone?" The question seems to come out of nowhere and she tilts her head, confused.

"Excuse me?"

He holds up his phone, with a very recent Gossip Girl blast on the screen which happens to be a photo of Nate and Vanessa: _Is N trading in the Queen B for the Princess of BK?_ "If _I've_ seen it, I know _you_ have."

Blair's face is a mask of perfectly schooled innocence. "What does that have to do with-"

"It has everything to do with why you're _here_, with me."

"I already told you why I'm here, Chuck."

"Oh please. I know you, Blair. _This_-" He gestures between them. "- is more about solidifying your relationship with Nate than it is about _us_."

"I thought there was no 'us'."

"There isn't. You couldn't come up with something more original than trying to use me to make him jealous?"

"You're deflecting."

"_You're_ pathetic. It's unbecoming."

"Sounds like you're confusing me with Vanessa."

"I don't want to talk about Vanessa."

"Sore spot?" Blair asks unkindly. She watches as Chuck stirs the drink in his hand. "...There could be something here, though, I think. Between us."

He takes a long and slow sip of his drink, choosing not to respond. "Think about it." Blair rests her hand on his shoulder for the briefest of seconds before sliding off the bar stool and leaving him behind, stepping out into the night.

* * *

Nate is the one who kisses her first, and Vanessa doesn't think or care to ask about Blair this time as her tongue searches out his. His hands slide through her hair and she tilts her head and opens her mouth just a little to deepen the kiss and she isn't as certain of her motives as she thought she would be when this moment happens. But when Nate pulls back, seconds later, and just says, "Ness," she grabs his hand and moves toward her door.

"Upstairs?"

He nods.

Once upstairs, they makes their way towards her bed. Their kisses are exploring, slow and sweet not at all comparable to the ones she shares with Chuck - a thought that Vanessa almost hates herself for having.

Vanessa pulls back a bit, angling her head so that she can rest her forehead against Nate's. They're not kissing anymore and the silence of her apartment has suddenly amplified threefold. She's opening her mouth to speak when she notices something out of the corner of her eye. On her bed lies a gift bag, a scrap of very familiar purple fabric peeking out rather obviously over the side.

She scoffs, having the sneaking suspicion that she already knows what it is before she steps away from Nate and walks towards it.

"Is that… yours?" Nate asks skeptically. "Because it kind of looks like—"

He stops and she can feel his eyes on her as she lifts the bag, inspecting it carefully. There's a card attached to its handle. _Of course there is, _Vanessa thinks sardonically, biting her lip. She opens it slowly, feeling about five levels of apprehensive about what it says:

_I don't usually re-gift_…_ but I didn't think you'd mind a little something to commemorate the evening.  
_

It isn't signed but there's only one person Vanessa can think of that it can be from; there aren't many people whose hotel rooms which she left her underwear in, anyway. Chuck. It had to be.

Bastard.

"That was you," Nate says with a frown, bringing her out of her thoughts, and the statement sounds oddly enough like an accusation.

"What?"

"Earlier today, in Chuck's hotel room…He was acting kind of weird, well more than his usual self and I had a feeling that he was hiding someone but I had no idea why—that was you."

She doesn't deny it. She doesn't know what to say, anyway.

"I don't get it. What is it about him?"

"Funny, he says the same thing about you," Vanessa mutters.

"Why were you hiding the fact that you were over there? I don't understand." He shakes his head, eyebrows drawing together before bringing his gaze up to meet hers. "There's more to this thing between you and Chuck than you're telling me, isn't there?" She doesn't deny that either. She couldn't, even if she wanted to. (She almost hates herself for that, too.)

* * *

She drops her bag on the bartop without preamble and he holds back a sigh at being interrupted yet again, but doesn't bother lifting his head to face her. "How did you know I'd be here?" he asks instead.

"This is the bar where you come to brood." Vanessa takes a breath before turning to face him, arms crossed over her chest. "You're a real bastard, you know that?"

"I take it you got my gift?"

Vanessa scowls at Chuck's smug tone.

"What, no 'thank you'? I thought those were your favorite pair."

"Nate was with me when I found your little gift bag. I mean, never mind how you even got into my apartment-"

He closes what little distance there is between them and Vanessa hates that she is so affected by a simple half-lidded gaze and the rough timbre of his voice. "I'm Chuck Bass. Nowhere in this city is off limits."

"I don't want to play games anymore, Chuck," Vanessa says softly and she tells herself that she means it. When it comes to him - to _Chuck _- she has to mean it.

"Oh, please. Stop trying to act like you're miss sweetness and light who simply got caught up in the wrong crowd. You _asked _for this. We both know you love the games. We both know just how much you really do want to be a part of this world. And you hate it, but you can't deny it. Just like you can't deny how much you get off on it."

"Screw you."

He smirks. "Righteous indignation is a good color on you."

Vanessa scoffs. "Is this you trying to win me back? Because if it is, I've got to tell you, you have a really shitty way of going about making that happen."

Chuck shakes his head, swallowing back what's left of the drink in his glass. "...Can't get back what was never yours to begin with."


	10. Says He's Held Up with Holding On and On

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N: **so i'm thinking there are about two more chapters left of this story.. in the meantime, enjoy reading all. :)

* * *

**duplexity. **

She doesn't know why she agrees to go with Nate to a charity event being held at the Palace Hotel nearly a week later. She doesn't know why she's been doing a lot of things lately. In the back of her mind, she imagines Dan as her own personal Jiminy Cricket, shaking his head and aghast in silent disapproval.

But she allows herself to hold onto the excuse that Blair is out of town for her father's birthday and Nate has to go to this thing, so Vanessa is simply doing him a favor by going as his date, because he needs her. As a friend.

_Even _you_ know that's complete bullshit, _Vanessa scolds herself.

"Thanks for coming to this thing with me."

She tries to smile, but knows that it probably looks anything but genuine. "Nate, it's no problem, really." She takes Nate's proffered glass of champagne, trying to push down the thought that, given the choice, she would rather have scotch. His hand rests on the small of her back for the briefest of seconds, and even though it's gone in an instant Vanessa can't help but glance quickly over her shoulder to see if anyone's noticed.

Still, through that one action, she can sense his nervousness, knows that he's overly eager and willing to talk about what happened between them at her apartment and the subsequent interruption caused by Chuck and yet another Gossip Girl blast. But she's suddenly finding it difficult to think about the possibility of 'them' when she doesn't even know the state of Nate's relationship with Blair or hers with..._Chuck_. The simple fact that she's even taking Chuck (and Blair's) feelings into consideration at all after finally seeming to have what she wanted just within her reach.

"...So are we ever going to talk about what happened between us at your place the other day?"

"Yes. Later." She swallows thickly past the lump in her throat. Nate may be a bit gullible but she hardly even believes herself; she'd be surprised if Nate takes her word for it.

She can swear she's felt a pair of eyes on her the moment she and Nate arrived and has been stealthily trying to stay under the radar to avoid any sort of confrontation with Chuck.

Which is part of the reason why she's currently hiding out in the guest's coatroom. It's ridiculous, she realizes this; and she knows she's a coward for doing everything she can to avoid Chuck, not sure she can handle any close proximity to him after their conversation in the bar last night. _"You can't get back what was never yours to begin with."_ He'd actually seemed..._sincere_ in his disappointment, and she wasn't entirely sure how she was supposed to take it. _'Chuck Bass'_ and _'genuine sincerity'_ don't usually go together in the same sentence.

"What are you doing?" she whispers to herself. She presses her hand to her forehead, while absentmindedly running her fingers along the fabric of the sleeve of a suede coat.

"Wow, you're actually in here hiding from me? I have to admit, I'm flattered."

Chuck's voice, his tone derisive and mocking, cuts through the cocooned silence of the coatroom, startling her momentarily though Vanessa does her best to pretend she's unaffected by his sudden presence. She turns around quickly, eyes narrowed. "Don't be. I left something in my coat pocket," Vanessa dismisses, avoiding his gaze.

"How vague and non-descriptive. Doesn't sound at all like a lie. So is there a reason why you're avoiding me this time?"

"Not everything is about you Chuck," Vanessa insists.

"Maybe not, but _this_ is."

"I'm _not_ avoiding you," she denies vehemently.

"Then what the hell are you doing?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did you seriously come here with Nate?"

"Why not? Do I have any reason not to?" she asks, almost snottily.

"Didn't realize you were in the business of whoring yourself out to the Upper East Side."

She rolls her eyes. "Pot, meet kettle."

"Don't be fooled by the white steed and sword; Nate's playing a game, too," Chuck states firmly, stepping closer towards her. She takes a step backward, desperate to put distance between them so she can _think_, before she feels her back brushing against the coat rack. "And this thing between you and him isn't going to work."

Vanessa can't help but scoff in disbelief. "Right; Chuck Bass, the relationship expert. And just what the hell makes you so sure of that?"

"Well for one thing, there is the glaringly obvious fact that he seems to be keeping you on the back burner while his relationship with Blair remains firmly intact."

He has a point, she knows this, but she also kind of hates him for it. "Nate's a lovely idea," Chuck insists mockingly, "but he's not what you want."

A sudden rush of anger fills her at his presumption and suddenly Vanessa forgets about distance and space and thinking as she steps angrily towards him. "And you are? _You_ don't want me! So quit trying to tell me what I want-"

He's leaned across what little space remains between them, covering her mouth with his, not hesitating in the least to slip his tongue between her lips. Vanessa's own response is immediate, her eyes sliding shut and head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss, her hands coming up to wrap around the back of his neck and tugging roughly on his hair in an effort to pull him closer. In the back of her mind, she is aware of Chuck's hands gripping her hips, using his hold on her to turn them around and back her into the wall of the coatroom.

Vanessa isn't entirely sure who pulls away first but she knows even before she opens her eyes that on Chuck's lips will be a smug and knowing smirk.

"I think I'm starting to get a pretty good idea of what you really want."


	11. We Won't Stand for Hazy Eyes Anymore

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N: **the long wait was not intentional, trust me. it seems life has been uninspiring (writing wise) and this chapter was a definite struggle as it decided to go in its own direction (that keeps happening...) so review, let me know what you think. :]

* * *

**duo. **

Chuck leans across what little space there is that still remains between them, covering Vanessa's mouth with his, not hesitating in the least to allow his tongue to slip between her lips once she parts them. In spite of everything she told herself before their encounter, Vanessa can feel that her own response is immediate and without hesitation; her eyes slide shut and her head tilts to the side to deepen the kiss, her hands coming up to wrap around the back of his neck and tugging roughly on his hair at the nape of his neck in an effort to pull him closer. In the back of her mind, she is aware of Chuck's hands gripping her hips, pulling her toward him and using his hold on her to turn them around and back her into the far wall of the coatroom.

Vanessa isn't entirely sure who pulls away first but she knows even before she opens her eyes that gracing Chuck's lips there will be a smug and all too knowing smirk.

"I think I'm starting to get a pretty good idea of what it is that you really want," he says wittingly, his mouth brushing against hers after he utters each word.

She hates that he can be so... _pompous_ about this.

"Chuck..." She shakes her head. "I came here with Nate-"

"And your point would be...?"

"My _point,_" Vanessa stresses, eyes narrowed, "is that it would be kind of hypocritical for me to stay in here, in the _coat closet, _with you while he's still out there probably waiting for me."

"Nate brought you here as his date even while he's still very much involved in a _'relationship'_," he utters the word with a mocking and borderline derisive sneer while Vanessa rolls her eyes, "with Blair. Who the hell cares if you're a little bit hypocritical? The world, especially the Upper East Side, is full of hypocrites. Join the club."

She shakes her head, but doesn't make an effort to move away from him yet. Not that she can; he has her pinned between his body and the wall, his arms wrapped tight around her waist. "This is just..." she trails off because his hands are kneading her skin through the thin fabric of her dress and his mouth is slowly sliding down the column of her neck. "This is a really bad idea."

"All the great things in life start out as bad ideas."

"Chuck-"

"And then they turn into _brilliant_ ideas," Chuck continues, ignoring Vanessa's attempts to speak.

She realizes that she probably shouldn't find his arrogance so appealing. He's banking on that, she knows, hoping to use that weakness to his advantage.

"Tell me what you want."

"I don't think-"

"Don't think," he interrupts. "Stop second-guessing yourself; it's annoying. Just tell me what you want."

_Tell me what you want. _Vanessa doesn't know why it's so hard for her to trust that one statement but that probably has something to do with the person whose mouth it's coming out of. "Just what kind of game are you playing, Bass?"

He doesn't answer her. "Chuck."

"_You_ never answered my question," he insists. What do you want?"

It's unnerving, really, because he's looking her in the eye when he asks this and he's not supposed to _care _about what she wants and she's not supposed to want him to. She's not supposed to want to stay in this coatroom with him, Nate Archibald and any expectations be damned. _Damn it._

"You kind of ruin everything, you know that?" Vanessa scoffs, rolling her eyes before leaning forward to kiss him.

* * *

"So did you have fun at the Plaza event the other night?"

Blair's tone is too cheery, her smile too wide. Nate may be oblivious about many things, but this isn't one of them. She's baiting him; this is a trap.

"I wouldn't say that." And he definitely wouldn't; the talk Nate had been hoping to have with Vanessa about where they stood - as friends, as whatever - turned out to be a bust and he ended up spending the majority of the night playing the catch-up with a second cousin named Asher who Nate had been hoping to avoid who spit when he talked.

"Really? So you expect me to believe _you_ went stag to a society event?"

"I asked Vanessa, as friends-"

"Cute."

"I can't have friends?"

"Vanessa is not your friend. She's practically a lady in waiting," Blair sneers.

Nate thinks it's ridiculous for them to be arguing about this when Blair so clearly and obviously has feelings - or whatever she wants to call them - for Chuck. He tells her as much and that spirals into yet another argument that makes his head hurt and has Nate wondering how they got here. So, he does what she secretly wants but doesn't have the courage to do and ends the relationship for her. In the end, she can hate him but neither one of them has to worry about cheating on the other. "_You're_ breaking up with _me_? This is a joke right? Any minute now Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out of a bush wearing a disgusting trucker hat and clothes that are ten years too young for him."

"I think you have feelings for Chuck," he starts slowly.

"_Chuck_," she spits his name as if it were a curse and he would love to believe her, but Blair has always been a great actress. "Chuck was a meaningless fling that I have no trouble moving past and forgetting ever even happened."

"Just because a fling is meaningless doesn't mean we don't develop feelings for the other person, anyway."

"Actually, Nate, a fling is the _definition _of meaningless."

"Blair—"

"No. You think I don't know what you're doing?"

"What are you talking about?"

"God, you are so transparent," she snaps. "I saw the Gossip Girl blast, Nate!"

"I never slept with Vanessa."

"But you still cheated on me with her."

"And you still cheated on me with Chuck. I saw the blast, too, Blair."

"That's not the point!" She actually stamps her foot in aggravation and Nate can't really stop the small smile that leaps to his face nearly instantaneously. He can't seem to help it.

"This isn't about Vanessa or Chuck - or at least, it shouldn't be. It's about us and the fact that I feel like we're holding onto this… _idea_ of how we were two years ago and…We're not the same people anymore."

He moves to take her hand, but she's quicker than he is and pulls away. "I do love you Blair, but I feel like our whole lives you've had this fantasy planned out. And it doesn't exist."

"And it does with Vanessa." She laughs disbelievingly. "Last year it was Serena—"

"This isn't about Vanessa or Serena. Or anyone else."

"Of course it is, Nate," Blair sighs, resigned. "It always is with us."


	12. Willing and Ready to Prove the Worst

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

**A/N: **Includes a borrowed line from the show, one of my favorites. Points if you notice it.

So, the next chapter is looking like it's the last one, and it will _definitely_ be up sooner than this one was. Read and enjoy, everyone. :)

* * *

**difference.**

He awakes to the scent of Vanessa's shampoo wafting faintly beneath his nose and the feeling of her body, warm and naked, completely flush against his side.

There is no point of disconnect between them— her hip is pressed against his hip, while her bare thigh draped across his. It's…_nice_, he muses, and oddly enough the feeling of being settled, of being content makes him… uncomfortable. It's not that he doesn't like or isn't used to getting what he wants—_obviously, _Chuck smirks— it's more so that he isn't used to _caring_ about what happens _after_ he's achieved the end result. He never has, really. At least until now.

Chuck frowns in thought just as the door to his hotel room opens abruptly, disrupting the peace. He's forgotten completely about the housecleaning service that comes to his room so often that he's on a first name basis with the staff - all except for one, a middle-aged German woman named Hildegaard, one of the few maids Chuck hasn't slept with. He's grateful, though, what with Vanessa currently occupying his bed, that Hildegaard is the one coming to check to see if the room needs any cleaning.

"Good morning, Mr. Bass. Or should I say _afternoon_?" Hildegaard greets disapprovingly.

Vanessa startles awake at the other presence in his hotel room, her eyes snapping open and her body suddenly rigid. Chuck smirks in amusement as he watches her scramble to cover herself up out of some attempt to have some semblance of modesty.

"Mr. Bass? Would you like for me to turn down your bed?" Hildegaard asks archly. She's standing near the foot of the bed now, her hands folded neatly in front of her, her gaze focused solely on Chuck. He can feel Vanessa squirming beside him as she struggles to pull the bed-sheet up higher across her chest and Chuck wraps an arm around her to hold her in place and keep her from moving—though he won't deny that the feeling of her body moving against his is certainly a welcome one.

"No, it's fine for now."

"Do you need anything else, Mr. Bass?" Hildegaard purses her lips and narrows her eyes as her gaze lands on Vanessa in a look ripe with barely veiled disapproval. "Anything for your…female friend?"

"Oh, no, I—" Vanessa starts but then she cuts herself off, meeting Hildegaard's gaze suddenly. "_Actually_, Hildegaard, I would love some Pellegrino. And maybe some extra pillows," she adds.

Hildegaard looks to Chuck for confirmation, who simply nods with a smirk on his lips. Hildegaard's eyes are essentially slits at this point. "…Yes, Mr. Bass." She nods quickly before exiting the room.

Beside him, Vanessa snorts. "_'Pellegrino'_?" he mocks. "You couldn't just ask for water?"

"I could've given her a harder time. Did you see the way she looked at me?"

"Hildegaard's a bit overprotective."

"Clearly." She turns over onto her side, eying him with a smirk. "And how hard is it for you to make your own bed? The last time I checked, your hands were working perfectly."

"Then there would be no point to room service."

Vanessa shakes her head in attempt to hide the small amused smile on her lips. "You're unbelievable."

"Thank you."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. And, for the record," she adds, rolling so that she's on top of him, "I'm not into exhibitionism."

Chuck smirks, eyebrows quirked in bemusement at the new position. "You say that now, but I'm sure I can find some way to convince you otherwise."

"…I can't stay," Vanessa admits. "I…have to take care of something."

"Cryptic."

She nods but despite his imploring look doesn't clear up the mystery. Vanessa slides out of bed and he is momentarily distracted when she drops her arms, the sheet falls to the mattress, and she bends to collect her clothes from the floor. Chuck watches her leave, telling himself that he should have known better than to get his hopes up.

* * *

Blair sighs before taking a deep breath, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders as she pushes open the door to the Chanel boutique where she knows Serena is certainly waiting for her, armed with an arsenal of questions.

Blair breezes past a saleswoman, sending her away with a flick of the wrist as she approaches Serena, who's examining a pair of heels, probably trying to determine if they're too high to consider purchasing.

"B, _there_ you are. I've been calling." Serena pulls her into a tight hug that she quickly releases once she seems to realizes just how halfheartedly Blair is returning it. "What took you so long?"

"Trepidation," she retorts.

"What?"

Blair closes her eyes for just a moment, before ultimately deciding to tell Serena every excruciating detail of her conversation - breakup - with Nate.

"Wait a minute, I don't understand." Serena stops short in the middle of the store, her hands on her hips, a frown marring her otherwise perfect features. "You and Nate were supposed to _talk_. You were supposed to tell each other that those Gossip Girl blasts from the other day were either fake, meant nothing, Photoshopped or _something _and you were supposed to be fine - but then you come back from your dad's chateau and now you're telling me that you two broke up? Explain this to me because I'm not getting it."

Blair pulls out a gold shimmering, mermaid-esque dress from an array of dresses and holds it up to Serena. "I'm pretty sure this one is your size, though I don't know if it's appropriate. What exactly is the dress code for a vow renewal of a wedding that technically hasn't happened yet?"

"It's not a vow renewal," Serena reasserts, taking the garment - and the distraction - out of Blair's hands. "My mother and Rufus don't care about a dress code and you know it, Blair. Come on. What _exactly _happened between you and Nate?"

She sighs, turning towards Serena and lowering her voice. Saying this out loud is, admittedly, unpleasant. And, in Blair's opinion, unbelievable. "He said something about possibly having feelings for Vanessa. Not without, of course, accusing me of having feelings for Chuck," she adds bitterly. "You know, once men have tasted caviar it absolutely baffles me how they can settle for catfish."

"He…wants to _be with_ Vanessa?" Serena guesses. "Is that what he said?"

Blair scoffs, rolling her eyes and setting the dress off to the side. "Not in so many words but, he didn't have to. It was written all over his face."

Serena bites her lip and starts, naively, Blair would argue, trying to rationalize. "Well, then, you don't know for sure if that's what he wants. I mean, maybe—"

"I know Nate, S, and he's so painfully obvious whenever his eyes start to wander. It's pathetic really."

"…You seem awfully calm about this."

"It's over. C'est la vie. He can troll the streets of Brooklyn fighting off the rats for scraps of streetcar hummus for the rest of his life for all I care."

"You know, I don't think we've both been single at the same time for a long time."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"…Kind of," Serena concedes; Blair scowls. "B, it doesn't have to be either or, you know. You can _choose_ to be without them."

"I know that. It's just - I had a _plan_-"

Serena shrugs. "So, change it."

Blair sighs, almost pouting. "You make it sound so simple.'

* * *

Vanessa leans against the counter as she sits in the kitchen of the Humphrey/van der Woodsen household. Dan is perched on the stool next to her, a mug of coffee in his hands. She feels her phone buzz in her pocket and, without looking at the display, hits 'ignore'. "So what time is Lily and Rufus' anniversary/celebration of beating the odds and fates of the universe party?"

"Seven," he answers succinctly. He's choosing to ignore her phone call avoidance, Vanessa knows, because he's got bigger fish to fry. His head is cocked partially to the side, the look on his face the very definition of quizzical. She's known Dan long enough to know that look is going to be followed by questions and conversations that she either isn't going to like or is going to make her uncomfortable. Or both.

"So-" At this, Vanessa manages to hold back a sigh but still rolls her eyes. "- word on the street is it that Nate and Blair called it quits. Coincidentally, not long after that blast hit with that picture of _you_ and Nate."

Vanessa swallows her own sip of coffee, careful not to gulp. "'Word on the street'?" Vanessa scoffs at Dan's use of the out-of-date colloquialism, an eyebrow raised. "I think you've been spending way too much alone time with Rufus lately."

Dan narrows his eyes. "Interesting. You know, I thought that there would be more fanfare when this happened. From you, especially."

"I don't really do 'fanfare', Dan."

"Something happened with either Chuck or Nate, or both."

"I don't think either one of them would be interested in a threesome with each other."

"Vanessa-"

"Your waffles are burning," she cuts him off, eager for the distraction that has him turning around to keep the nearly antiquated waffle iron from bursting into flames.

A mini-inquisition with Dan was certainly not on Vanessa's agenda when she came here nearly twenty minutes ago and now she's more than grateful to have the opportunity to escape to see the person she intended to come here to see: Jenny.


	13. Cleaning Up My Act

Dichotomy

Summary: He will destroy her. It's the one thing about him that she can say for certain. Chuck/Vanessa

Setting: season 2 (around the era of "Remains of the J")

* * *

**dual.**

Vanessa leans against the counter as she sits in the kitchen of the Humphrey/van der Woodsen household. Dan is perched on the stool next to her, a mug of fresh, hot coffee in his hands. She feels her phone buzz in her pocket and, without looking at the display, hits 'ignore'. "...So what time is Lily and Rufus' anniversary/celebration of beating the odds and fates of the universe party?"

"Seven," Dan answers succinctly. He's choosing to ignore her phone call avoidance, Vanessa knows, because he's got bigger fish to fry during this conversation. His head is cocked partially to the side, the look on his face the very definition of quizzical. She's known Dan long enough to know that look is only going to be followed by questions and conversations that she either isn't going to like or is going to make her wholly uncomfortable. Or both.

"So-" At this, Vanessa manages to hold back a sigh but still rolls her eyes. "- word on the street is that Nate and Blair called it quits. Coincidentally, not long after that blast hit with that picture of _you_ and Nate."

Vanessa swallows her own sip of coffee, careful not to gulp. "'Word on the street'?" Vanessa scoffs at Dan's use of the out-of-date colloquialism, an eyebrow raised. "I think you've been spending way too much alone time with Rufus lately."

Dan narrows his eyes. "Interesting. You know, I thought that there would be more fanfare when this happened. From you, especially."

"I don't really do 'fanfare', Dan."

"That means," he continues, as if she hadn't even spoken, "that something happened with either Chuck, Nate, or both."

"I don't think either one of them would be interested in a devil's threesome," she quips. "Even if I happen to be involved."

Dan sighs. "Vanessa-"

"Your waffles are burning," she cuts him off, eager for the distraction that has him turning around to keep the nearly antiquated waffle iron from bursting into flames. A mini-inquisition with Dan was certainly not on Vanessa's agenda when she came here nearly twenty minutes ago and now she's more than grateful to have the opportunity to escape for the chance to see her intended target: Jenny.

* * *

Vanessa hesitates in the doorway to the younger girl's bedroom before rolling her eyes at her own cowardice and knocking decidedly on the door frame. She needs to do this. "Hey."

Jenny turns from her position by her bookshelf so her back is facing the window instead of the door. She doesn't return the greeting. "What are you doing here? Came to gloat or something? Send a Blair Waldorf-inspired warning my way?"

"_What_?"

"I saw the blast about Blair and Nate. Looks like you and Chuck both got what you wanted. So congratulations; your deal with the devil worked."

It's hard to pretend that doesn't sting somewhat, even if Vanessa knows there's a little truth to that statement. It's simply hard to take when the situation isn't exactly the same now as it was then. "No, that's…I'm not here about that, Jenny. I came to apologize."

Jenny scoffs, her arms crossing defensively over her stomach. "Did you now?"

Vanessa tries to ignore the venom in her tone, telling herself that Jenny's hurt, but it isn't easy. "Yes. I never should've let a guy come between us, even if - I _thought _that…" she trails off, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter what I thought. All the lies and just _everything _wasn't worth it." Although, Vanessa guesses, if she were to _really _think about it, she'd be forced to admit that's not entirely true. Thinking of where she woke up this morning and who she spent last night with, she can't honestly say that it's all bad. And, she finds, she can't honestly say she regrets _everything_. Because she doesn't. "…I'm sorry."

"If you want me to talk to Nate, tell him about the letters-"

"Oh, I get it now. You decided, I'm sure after you'd already driven the final nail in the coffin of Blair and Nate's relationship, that he suddenly wasn't what you wanted. So now you think you're doing me a favor by giving me your leftovers?"

"_No_, I just-"

"Thought you could ease your guilt and dump your excess baggage all in one go?"

"Why are you acting like this when I'm actually trying to apologize?" Vanessa wonders, baffled.

"You've been swimming with the UES sharks for awhile now - excuse me if I don't think you're being sincere."

"Jenny-"

"And I don't _need _your apology, Vanessa. Not anymore." Jenny's words combined with the cold look of dismissal in her eyes says it all:

They're done here.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing she says to him once she finally reaches his table and for a moment Nate frowns in confusion. She's twenty minutes late and briefly he thinks that's what she's apologizing for. But then he looks up and actually meets her gaze and realizes what she's apologizing for isn't simple.

Vanessa sits down at the table across from him and reaches for the glass of water that's been placed in front of her. She moves it, Nate notices, but doesn't take a sip. She's fiddling with a bracelet around her wrist and he notices that it looks markedly different from the rest of her usual jewelry. Nate wonders if it's a gift from Chuck - but, at the same time, he doesn't think he really wants to know the answer. "I know that you probably don't want to hear it…" she trails off, almost as if she's expecting for him to cut her off or interrupt. He doesn't.

"Actually," Nate counters, "I kind of do."

"I'm sorry. About what happened the other night," she continues. "It shouldn't have happened."

"…That's it?"

Vanessa frowns. "What else is there to say, Nate?"

"Why the hell didn't you tell me the truth the other night? It would have saved me a lot of embarrassment and if you didn't want to be there...I mean I invited you to an event and you ditched me to be with Chuck."

Her eyes narrowed. "I _did_ want to be there. You invited me as a _friend, _remember? Or was that just a line?"

"Of course it wasn't. I'm just saying, if you were just honest with me-"

Vanessa crosses her arms across her chest, her expression hardening. "Honest. Right. Like you were honest about the fact that when you came to my apartment, technically speaking, you and Blair were still together?"

"You _knew_ about me and Blair. I didn't know about you and Chuck."

"And?"

"Seriously?" Honestly, Nate doesn't know what to make of Vanessa's apparent callousness. He doesn't know how he thought this lunch would go, but _this_ certainly isn't it.

"I don't _owe_ you anything, Nate. I didn't come here to grovel or beg for your forgiveness if that's what you're looking for." She stands abruptly, almost knocking over her glass of water in the process. "I apologized for what happened that night at the Palace and if that's not enough-"

"I'm not saying it's not enough-"

"Then what _are_ you saying?"

"I…." He knows he's disappointed at the way things have ended between them now. He's disappointed in the way things ended between him and Blair. He's disappointed that it seems Chuck for all his bastardly habits of selfishness is apparently getting the girl. Again.

He stands, pushing his chair back from the table. "I'm saying that I hope you and Chuck enjoy each other."

Nate isn't sure whether or not he's saying it with sincerity, but he thinks he wants to be.

* * *

Vanessa takes a sip from the glass in her hands, then frowns, turning up her nose in distaste. _Champagne._

She sets the glass on a table off to the side, ignoring a pointed look sent her way by Blair. Interestingly enough, she chooses not to say anything. Puzzling, but Vanessa doesn't spend much time thinking about it. She _does _wonder where Chuck has gotten off to.

After Lily and Rufus give their obligatory toast and speech and cut the cut celebrating the momentous occasion, Vanessa takes a piece and surreptitiously sneaks toward the balcony, where she, unexpectedly finds Chuck leaning against the railing and sipping scotch. He turns to face her at the sound of the door closing, though his expression is unreadable. "Cake?"

He pulls a face, making it more than obvious that his immediate response is no, as he shakes his head. "Is that sheet cake?"

"The best sheet cake in the city. From _Flor's_ over on 5th." Vanessa steps closer, offering it, and she guess, herself, towards him.

"...Sure; why not?" Chuck shrugs. He takes the fork from her hands and rations himself a small portion of the cake with Lily and Rufus' faces on it. "Good," is all he says but he goes in for another piece, betraying his aloof commentary. Vanessa grins.

She lets him eat about half of it, because she's feeling an irrational streak of guilt for leaving him to go see Nate, even if, this time, nothing happened. She doesn't realize she's been watching him until the sound of Chuck clearing his throat reaches his ears and he's standing in front of her, fork outstretched towards her. "Thanks."

She takes it back, spears off a piece for herself. "...So, Jenny hates me."

"And?" Chuck shrugs, his disinterest apparent. "She's sixteen. She hates everyone."

"Thank you. That helps." She shakes her head. "She was my friend. And she hates me, now, because of what happened with Nate."

"Speaking of the Golden Boy," he utters the nickname with a slight sneer. Vanessa wonders if another friendship has been damaged. "…how was lunch?" Chuck is still facing forward when he asks this but Vanessa can't help but sigh in exasperation. _Of course_ he found out about her lunch with Nate.

She rolls her eyes. "Awkward," she admits. "But necessary, I guess."

"Nothing happened."

"Right."

"I mean it-"

"I believe you," he interrupts her. His tone is surprisingly convincing.

"Why?" she asks doubtfully. "Because you had me followed?"

"No," he says simply. "Because I believe you."

As surprising as it is, as much as this is more than likely guaranteed to go into ruins - because of their differences, because of who they are - she finds that she wants to believe him, too.


End file.
